


Just Come On

by hana_hana



Series: Stranger Things Series [1]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: 1980s, Aboleth, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Developing Friendships, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship/Love, Hawkins National Laboratory, I did a lot of research, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Jealousy, Loss of Powers, Mind Control, Monster Hunters, Monsters, Multi, No Name, Other, Possible Character Death, Psychic Abilities, Reader-Insert, Reboot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Friendship, Sibling Rivalry, Trust Issues, Will Byers Gets a Break, dustin just really is a nerd, lucas is skeptical, mike does like reader but it is explained, more to come - Freeform, mostly - Freeform, will byers gets more screen time hah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-07-12 09:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_hana/pseuds/hana_hana
Summary: Hawkins, Indiana. 1984.After the strange disappearance of Will Byers in 1983, as well as the appearance of an unknown girl, Hawkins was never the same. Mike Wheeler, a resident, was especially affected. How unusual it is for him to house another unknown person in his home, but not for a newfound friendship.To find the girl he loved once before, or so he thinks.- a Stranger Things fanfiction based in-between seasons 1 and 2. i try and go by canon as much as possible.





	1. One Of These Nights

_July 1984_

The buzz from the flickering lights was all that could be heard throughout the observation room. No one took their eyes off of their current patient, this one was showing more promising tests recently and the attempts at contact were coming clearer by the day. This was just another test run before they attempted a full-on assault on whoever they needed to.

“Keep your eyes closed,” the man says, lifting his hand from the metallic table to adjust the stickers they’d put on the child, lining their chest and back, forehead too. They couldn’t let anything go wrong, not after what happened with number eleven. Things needed to get back on track one way or another, and this was it. A breakthrough. “Now listen to this voice and tell me what is going on.”

The child nods, screwing their eyes shut as they listened. The voice was speaking in a foreign language that they didn’t understand, it all sounded like gibberish and nonsense but the longer they listened the more they understood. Russian spies speaking to one another, discussing plans of infiltration and destruction from the inside out. It was frightening the way they spoke, laughing about the tragedies that they’d created, living freely and in peace just before another tragedy would arrive. The child moans in fear, trying to peel away the stickers that connected them to that voice, trying to pull away from the speakers they were forced to listen to.

“No,” the man places the headphones back on and locks the stickers back into place. They’d pulled off at least two in their attempt to escape the voices that became louder and clearer in time, overbearingly so to the point where they screamed and the speakers into the observation room let out an ear-piercing screech. “You will keep these on, keep them on. Keep listening, and keep transferring what you hear to the good people. Understand?” The child writhes again, and the man finally slams his palm onto the table, “That’s enough!”

The child resumes listening. There is nothing to do but listen and transfer the speaking, translate it without even knowing a word of that language. A purpose only to be a human cipher capable of speaking, reading, translating any language without knowing any words, to begin with. A pawn in the man’s game of war, a trump card that would be thrown away at any moment. Unfortunately, the pressure built up and the translated words disappeared, as did the transcripts. They returned to their original form, Russian alphabet, and conversation.

Without a thought, the man stands up. He forcefully removes the stickers and headphones from the child at the table, throwing them aside infuriated while they sit there in plain fear. He fixes himself, adjusting the edges of his coat while calling two names with all-too-familiar words, ones that always led to a terrifying end.

“Hannigan, Crowley. Take 009 to the Dark Room, full exposure.”

The Dark Room was absolutely dreadful. The child begins screaming at the thought, thrashing limbs around as security linked around their shoulders. A singular ear-piercing scream from the child sent the speakers into a frenzy, blaring a white ringing that never seemed to end in pitch. However, they’d dealt with this before, and dragged the child away in apathy, roughing them up the more they cried.

“Papa!” The child cries out, clawing at the walls all the while being pulled away from the one person they’d trusted. But this was how it went, there were rules and if one was to break one of those rules, they would be punished to the fullest extent. Enduring abuse seemed to be one that was nearly always broken by this particular child. As they get torn away from the more lit up areas of the white hallways, security tosses open a small dark room and throw them inside. They close the heavy iron doors and the child screams, banging on the door as it closes, leaving nothing but a dim glow from the space underneath the door. “Papa, papa. Papa.” They wail out in fear of the dark consuming them whole, crying out as the voices seem to get louder and louder until finally, they end.

The door reopens, and a security guard stands there in their white coat, staring blankly with their pupils greyed out and destroyed. Something was wrong, but freedom was on the child’s mind as they stepped out, carefully and quietly. Once the realization of what was happening clicked into their mind, the child roamed the halls and found peace outside of the brick walls, in the far off cold of **Hawkins, Indiana.**

* * *

_July 1984_

“That is _not_ going to happen,” Mike objects while Dustin attempts to seduce a doppelganger that Will had threatened. It was nearly 11 at night and yet they kept playing, Will was barely ever in the mood to play for even a moment and today felt better. He stayed for seven hours and so did the rest of the club, although Mike was still hung up on her he never missed the chance to spend quality time with the rest of his friends. It was vital to his everyday living. “You can’t charm or seduce a doppelganger, it- you just can’t!”

“Who says he can’t?” Lucas questions the game master. Dustin had already failed to seduce other monsters, and a doppelganger wasn’t any different. Except this doppelganger had decided to take the form of Mike’s character, and he didn’t want any of that to happen even to a copycat. “Come on, just let him roll!”

The boys began chanting, ‘let him roll! Let him roll!’ and Mike gave in, letting him roll even if he knew it was going to be bad. A terrible roll, the worst one he’ll ever see, and he almost gets to pick fun at Dustin until he sees how well it had gone in his case. He rolled a perfect 20, and Mike’s jaw went slack. Will high-fives Dustin in victory, even if he too thought it was a bit odd.

“You guys are insane.”

After their eventful night, Joyce requested Will back at home. She was traumatized from his disappearance and so Mike’s mother drove him home, as well as the other boys since all she’d been doing all day was read romantic novels and lounge around with curlers in her hair. Mike stayed at his home and cleaned a bit, reluctant to do so after catching a glimpse of his walkie-talkie near his fort. His fort, in general, was a mess after El left and never returned, he never had the heart to destroy it or remove anything that was in it after she did. It brought him hope, hope that one day she’ll send a message back, even just a small one.

So now as he sits down inside of it, his somewhat beaten up radio in his hands while he thinks of a message to send. It would be the same as always, recounting the last things that happened and an update on what day it was, how much he’d wished she was back. But this time it felt different like she was going to respond for real, and it had to be meaningful. As much as it could be.

“It’s been a while since Will played with us,” he says after he introduced the day. Mike always resented that part, it made him feel terrible to know how long he’d gone without her near him, without hearing her voice or even seeing her face. “He’s playing now, though, and I feel better. I just…” He waits, would it be the right time to say?

Just as he is about to continue the lights flicker. On and off, then suddenly spark out. He nearly screams and tosses aside his possession to stand up, looking around. Being in the basement alone with no light drove him to terror, and he knew just who’d done it.

“Nancy!” He shouts at the top of his lungs and runs up the stairs, nearly tripping before he opens up the door only to find the rest of the house off as well. She must have been really set on pissing him off, especially on one of his better days. “Nancy, what the-“

There, in the corner of his living room. A person trudges around his carpet with muddy feet and weary eyes until suddenly, they fall and don’t get back up again. Their attire was how he’d seen Will not long ago, in a hospital gown with ties in the very back, in this case, clipped and tied. Their head was nearly completely shaved just as El had when he first met her, except this time a little longer.

“Hello?” Once he sees their eyes close, the lights turn back on, and the strange static from the TV abruptly stops. Mike nears the person with a trembling walk, he was terrified and curious all at once, a not very nice combination. Finally, he reaches the person and he swallows the frog in his throat, “He… hello?”


	2. Super Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike Wheeler takes care of a stranger.

_July 1984_

Mike Wheeler _hated_ dinner.

But lately, he had to go to dinner, and he endured the pushy subjects his dad talked about and endured to teasing from Nancy, occasional chair-kicking from her too. After dinner he’d run to the kitchen to clean the dishes, something he never did, and never will do. Because Mike instead took leftovers downstairs, into his basement, where the stranger stayed for the past few days.

“Mom made meatloaf with a recipe she found in one of her magazines,” Mike hurries down the basement doors just after closing and locking it. If anyone were to ask, he’d just stomp around until they thought he was having a fit. “It doesn’t taste that good, but I think its good enough.” He turns to find his fort empty, even the couch.

Placing the plate onto his table, Mike calls out for the stranger quietly while searching around. That’s when he finds the outside door wide open, air whistling in. He panics, curses and rushes outside to look for the stranger.

“Oh, no,” he pants after searching for a minute or two. “Shit, shit, shit.” Mike searches one more time around back before sprinting back inside, closing and locking the door. He tugs at his hair with both hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. Should he put up a missing person flyer? No, the lab was sure to find them too. Should he call Dustin? Or Lucas? He definitely couldn’t call Will, not after what he went through.

Mike rummages around for his walkie-talkie and finally finds it on the table, right where the stranger sits. He continues to set it up before slowly looking back at the stranger, who sat silently, eating whatever was left of the ‘vegetarian’ meatloaf. It wasn’t any good to him, but the stranger didn’t seem to mind at all.

“You scared the crap out of me!” He scolds, folding the antenna back down while placing his walkie-talkie onto the table. The stranger watches him with jittery eyes, they glance back from him to their food, and he waves his hand to let them continue eating. “You know, if you wanted to go outside, you could have just—I don’t know—asked?”

“Outside?” They repeat, setting down their spoon. After a few hours of trying to get them to eat with a fork like a normal person, Mike came to the conclusion that they didn’t like forks at all. It was an odd fear but who was he to judge?

“Yeah,” Mike murmured to himself and sighed. He takes a good long look at the stranger’s gown, it was getting dirty from how they ate food like they’d never tasted anything but cardboard, and it was fraying at the edges from however they got there. “We should get you some new clothes. So you don’t, uh… look, you know.”

The stranger waits for more, but he sighs again and heads up the stairs. The loud footsteps make the child cover their ears, only for a second, and stare up at him.

“I’ll go get you something to wear, I think we have some stuff you can fit.”

Mike left the child unaccompanied, and though he would only be gone for a moment, he knew something was bound to happen. Maybe one of his figurines was going to break, or his spaceship to shatter. The stranger never presented any cool powers yet, not even a little ability or talent. He was left to imagine things, and of course, he imagined what El could do, moving things with their mind like a mage. A damn good one.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Nancy watches him rummage through the dryer, which just so happened to be her laundry. Mike pushes himself out of the dryer and hits the back of his head, coming out with a pair of underwear on clinging to his hand. He stares at his sister, silent, and waits for some kind of explanation to appear. It does, but it isn’t quite what she wanted to hear.

“Just looking for something to um, wear?”

She looked down at the lacy underwear in his hand and snatches it from him once she notices, gasping. “Michael, what is wrong with you!” Nancy pushes Mike out of the laundry room and shouts at him to go away. Reluctantly, he does and goes to find something else for the stranger to wear.

He finds himself in his room, looking through his drawers for some kind of outfit to wear. Believe it or not, Mike Wheeler isn’t very good at picking out his own clothes, he usually let his mother do it until realizing he didn’t like plaid knee-high shorts and calf-length socks. But admittedly, he did know what most people liked, and he pulled out a crew neck shirt he wore a long time ago. It was green with a yellow collar, he never really liked the color and decided not to wear it. There was also the plaid boxers that were much too wide at the thighs for him- he definitely wasn’t going to wear that anytime soon.

Mike didn’t exactly have anything for them to wear… underneath. So he grabbed the nearest briefs he could find and the cleanest socks, even a towel he kept in case they wanted to take a bath. Sure, the water wasn’t cold in the bathroom downstairs, but it was enough to get cleaned. Err, cleaner.

When he leaves his room, Nancy passes by with a sour face and a small insult that he barely hears over his own heartbeat. Mike rolls his eyes when she slams her door shut and he can hear her phone being picked up. To call Steve, he thinks. Or Jonathan.

Mike zips past the living room and into the basement once again, a pile of clothes in his hands. His mom asks him a question about someone at the door, but he moves too quickly and doesn’t hear her. He shouts an ‘okay!’ and she leaves him alone after that. It was a good thing that always worked.

“Okay,” Mike hops down the last step and presents the clothes to the filthy stranger. “Here, a shirt, pants, socks if it gets cold, and if you want a bath we have a bathroom over there. It’s not that good so no one uses it, but I could get soap from Nancy’s cabinet too. Oh! And look.” Mike rummages through the clothing pile for something, a small sweatband that fit just around their wrist. “I know El had one, and uh, I think you do too. It’s so you feel safe.”

He hands the pile to them and stands back, waiting for a reaction. Maybe they weren’t used to such kindness, or thoughtfulness, or even a smidgen of acknowledgment that wasn’t all force and fear. The strange picked up the shirt, and stared, then turned to Mike with the softest of curiosity.

“ _Mine_?”

“Well,” he pauses and their hopes seem to drop. Mike’s eyes shoot wide open. “I- I mean, yeah! It’s yours if you want it. But… yeah. You can keep it. Just don’t let anyone know I gave it to you, my mom will get angry.” He laughed, and the stranger practiced a laugh too. It made his chest flutter, but all he could think about was El. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

The stranger picked up the rest of their clothes and set them in a line, one by one, before trying to pull off their hospital gown. Mike yelped and shut his eyes, grabbing them by their shoulders to guide them to the bathroom where he tossed their clothes inside and shut the door. Unlike Eleven, they didn’t give a gentle push to keep it open. Instead, they cried out and rang through his ears like a bell. He quickly reopened it and they stood there whimpering and trembling in fear.

“Sorry,” he says and keeps it slightly open for their own safety and of course, his own. The stranger doesn’t respond, only sniffles and turns away to change. Mike felt a stone in his throat, guilt maybe because he knew what happened to El. It was possible that they weren’t so different after all. Mike moves away from the bathroom door and sighs while looking around for something to do as they change into their cleaner clothes.

Mike walks over to the fort where they’d been sleeping. Despite wanting to preserve whatever he had left of El, he let them reside there, just in case someone were to come down without permission. He had a few rules set for the stranger.

One, don’t go upstairs unless there’s an emergency. Mike learned that they were much more curious than Eleven and tended to wander, which he punished by not letting them have dessert too. Two, don’t talk too loud, which wasn’t hard to do as they were nearly always silent. Three, whatever happens, don’t go outside unless with Mike.

The last rule was vital. They were an odd sight to anyone in Hawkins and after the incident before, there were numbers to call if anyone caught sight of a numbered, bald child. Mike knew this, though, he kept them safe. He did what he was supposed to.

Mindlessly, Mike picks up his walkie-talkie. It felt heavy, weighed down by his addiction to reporting to El every night, even if he knew she wasn’t going to respond. It was stupid of him to think she would, but a sliver of hope was enough. That’s what kept him searching.

“Hey, El.” Mike adjusts the walkie-talkie, sitting down in the pillow fort while he took a deep breath just like he did any other night. “It’s me, Mike. Mike Wheeler, remember?” He speaks the same way he does every update, with desperation dripping from his words. “It’s day 233, 8:14 pm, I… I’m still here. I don’t know if you’re out there, but just give me a sign. Something, anything, I just want to know if you’re still…” He couldn’t bear to even say it, but it was always an explanation.

Before he can trail off into a sad ramble, Mike hears static from the receiver and he adjusts it until it leaves a clear message. She’s speaking his name. His eyes sting at the sound of her voice, she’s alive. She’s alive. Mike chases the voice and tries to respond, tell her that he can hear her, that he knows, but it’s only met with more static and silence. He chokes on his words before looking up at the bathroom door which had been open for quite some time.

Eavesdropping, the stranger stares at him with dazed and sorrowful eyes. Mike makes eye contact for a moment before glancing back down at the walkie-talkie. He’s shaken to the core with confusion and hopes all at once. He takes a long look at their face and notices the dribble of blood falling from their nose. It was barely noticeable, but the darkened veins were unmistakable.

_“You?”_


	3. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream lurks in Mike Wheeler's mind, what does it mean?

_July 4, 1984_

The sight was jarring.

An eerily dark room where the floors were endless and the walls never meet. No corners, no sides or tops, only black. Infinite black that only grew the farther you walk. Ends connected and repeated itself over and over until finally, he stops and looks down at his feet. Ripples let off at his heels, and finally, Mike realizes where this is.

“El?” His voice cracks when he shouts into the echoing place. Mike takes a few steps forward until there’s a sudden puff of cool air behind him, a breath just calling over his shoulder. A sharp pain wrings his neck and he instantly clasps his hand around it, squeezing while calling out to her again. “El, where are you?”

Before Mike could call again, his voice gives out and a wave of fog fills the emptiness in front of him. A scene begins to form, an empty and cold white room with only a dim light peeking from the cracks of the door. The rest was nearly pitch black, the one visible thing being a hunched figure in the corner. The figure lacks hair, and immediately Mike knows.

“El. Eleven,” Mike strains his voice as he nears the person, but upon coming closer he stammers over his next words. It wasn’t El at all, far from it as the child he saw was different and yet familiar all the same. It was the stranger he’d been taking care of, weeping in pain and sorrow while tucked away into a ball. “Are you-“

Mike tries to grab their shoulder to comfort them somehow, the sound of their cries created a stinging and wrenching pain in his chest that he just couldn’t shake. But before his fingers could even grace their arm, the metal door to their left opens and white light floods into the room. Mike squints and puts his hand over his eyes to face whoever stood at the door.

It was a tall man with thin white hair and nearly black eyes- he had a grey suit and dark tie. Mike instinctively takes a step back once he enters the room, his eyebrows gathering while he stares at the man who bends down beside the stranger. There’s an urge to defend the stranger from him like something was wrong and Mike needed to fix it, but he couldn’t move. He was too scared to, and no matter how he tried, it was restraining.

“Nine,” the man says with a composed tone. “You worry me. Do you know that?” Mike didn’t appreciate the way the man touched the stranger’s face, kind and gentle when the more he focused the more Mike could see the bruises. This wasn’t right, it was disgusting to watch. “Your mind is extraordinary, you have potential.”

“Papa,” the stranger pleads, placing a frail hand onto the man’s wrist. They squeezed the fabric of his jacket and he swiped their hand away with a look of mild disgust. Pleading again, the stranger instead leans their head onto his palm, whimpering like a kicked dog. Mike never noticed how his fists were clenched, or how his nails dug into his palms as he watched. “Papa…”

“You know what happens when you don’t listen to me, Nine.”

The room falls into pitch-black darkness. Nothing can be heard or seen beside the shrill screams from the stranger and the clicks of footsteps down the dimly lit hallway that presented itself in front of Mike. Mike’s mouth went agape as he stood in front of the scene, and he looked behind him to see the tall man with an expressionless face. He held no remorse.

“What are you doing?” Mike shouts at him, watching as the stranger gets taken away. He balls his hands into fists and trembles in pure anger. “Let them go! Stop it, you’re hurting Nine, let go of them! You’re hurting them!” Mike finally breaks away from the man and runs as fast as his legs could carry him, but the farther he got the longer the hallway began to grow. “Nine!”

Nine writhes around in the two men’s grasp until letting out an ear-piercing scream. It rings through Mike’s head and he covers his ears instinctively. Mike calls out to Nine again, but as soon as he lifts his eyes to the two men there on the ground and knocked out, shaking violently while saliva spills from their mouths. Mike calls again and his eyes start to blur.

The man passes through Mike’s body, fading to smoke before recollecting into his own figure. Mike can barely keep his eyes open but still fights against whatever was pulling him deeper into fatigue, taking weighted steps toward Nine and trying to protect them while the man picks them up from their knees. Mike reaches out while falling to his own knees, hitting his head onto the black ground while the man carries away Nine.

_**“Nine!”** _

* * *

__

After such a traumatizing dream, Mike never seemed to be one-hundred-percent there. Nancy teased him that morning during breakfast, and Holly whined and spilled her cup of orange juice, mom even told him off for not finishing his cereal but he couldn’t quite get the image out of his mind. Neither could he forget the way they screamed.

Until his mom grabbed her purse and dad left for work. Holly was going along with her for shopping, they must have run out of groceries quickly. Mike wasn’t about to confess for something that Nine had a part of. Right, their name was Nine. It was uncomfortable to know that he found it out from a nightmare because maybe that wasn’t their name at all, but that was the best he’d get for now.

“Nine…”

“What?” Mom glanced back at Mike with a questioning look but shakes her head and sighs. She was in too much of a rush to care what he was mumbling. “Michael, Nancy is going to go help the Byers with the hole in their wall, it needs to be re-done. Your dad just went to work, so you’ll be here alone for a bit, okay?”

Mike nodded, and she left saying a small ‘Love you!’ before the door closed. Holly waved goodbye and Mike did, too, only to lock the door just after they leave. He gathers what he can from the kitchen, a glass of orange juice and a clean fork, and then hurries downstairs to where the stranger slept.

“Mike, are you on? Mike, I can hear the feedback, what are you doing on this channel? Mike. Mike, Mike, Mike. I know you’re on the channel!”

Nine sat at the couch with his walkie-talkie in hand, looking quite frightened to hear Dustin’s voice coming from the speaker. Mike nearly missed a step with how quickly he ran down, placing the breakfast on the table while snatching the walkie-talkie from their hands. Nine jumps back and swallows, just as nervous as he is.

“Sorry, Dustin,” Mike says quickly and out-of-breath, “I forgot to turn it off while I was, um, eating breakfast. I gotta go now. Bye!” Before Dustin can get in another word, Mike shuts off and cuts the connection on the device, placing it onto the coffee table hard enough that it makes a bang. “You can’t just touch whatever you want, you have to be careful! No one knows that you’re here, Nine. A-And if they do they’ll take you away! You’ll put everyone in danger!”

As soon as he turns around he wants to shut the words right back into his mouth, and if only he could. Nine recoiled into the printed couch with guilty stare directed at the floor and he could practically hear their frantic breaths. Mike opened his mouth and licked his lips, there really was no way to fix it besides apologizing, and so he did.

“I’m sorry,” Mike swallows the hard lump in his throat and tries to continue on, but Nine doesn’t move from their position on the cushions. He sits down on one of the chairs and wrings his wrists. “Listen,” his words finally gather their attention, “No one’s going to be home for a bit, and my friends want to come over for a party before the fireworks. The one you were talking to? That’s Dustin, and there’s Lucas and Will. They’re all really nice but you have to be careful, or else bad people will come after you. You have to promise me, promise me, that you’ll be careful.”

“Promise…” Nine repeated him with a slight tip to their tone. The very way that they spoke, the curiosity and intrigue, it reminded him so very much of Eleven that he nearly spoke her name. It made his throat feel like sandpaper.

“It’s something you can’t break,” he says with a strong feeling of déjà vu. Mike inhales shakily and exhales with a smile. “Do you promise?” Nine nodded, and he took that as an agreement before standing back up. “Okay, so I was thinking you could join the party too. But we’d have to get you some clothes, so… what do you like to wear?”

Nine looked down at the clothes they wore now, a much more clean shirt that Mike gave them because he’d accidentally spilled soda on them, and his gym shorts that he grew too tall for in the past month. They barely met at his thighs and it made him feel like he was wearing a dress. He attempts a laugh but realizes that they were serious, and refrains, leaving him with his mouth agape and Nine staring at him expectantly.

_“Okay… well.”_

“I just don’t understand why we couldn’t just have the party at my house,” Dustin slings his backpack off of his shoulder and follows the group to the Wheelers’ front door. Everyone had their own bags full of what they promised to bring, Lucas with drinks, Dustin with snacks, and Will with movies to watch until the fireworks started. “I have a big backyard, we could have set off fireworks there.”

“Mike has a bigger TV than you do, Dustin,” Lucas retorts. He had liters of soda with him in the thick bottles, and he didn’t want to go back to someone else’s house after what how carefully he had to ride his bike. “Plus, we’re already here.”

Once the boys reach the door, Will knocks first. They wait for a moment before knocking again and then repeat until Mike opens the door, breathless. He’s panting, actually, and there’s a bead of sweat by his forehead. He invites the boys in by stepping aside and holding his arm out.

“What were you doing?” Lucas questions while they follow him to the basement. But before they can open the door themselves, Mike jumps in front to stop them. They wait for him to open it, but he clears his throat, stalling to speak until finally, he does.

“Before we go downstairs, there’s something I have to tell you.”

In the basement, Mike sat the party down at their regular spots, except he’d found an extra chair to be seated beside his own. No one said a word while Mike began to explain what happened, no one spoke, no one wanted to. The mess they’d been in before with El was something they never wanted to experience again, they didn’t want to remember the pain they’d gone through and the horrors they saw, and yet here was a living, walking, breathing reminder who would bring nearly the same terrors.

“What’s their name?” Lucas asks with his arms crossed over his chest. “Or better yet, what did you name them too, Mike?” He looks at Mike with a tilted head and a raised brow.

“I didn’t-“Mike shouts before quieting his voice. He knew how Nine reacted to loud noises and it wasn’t a good reaction, he’d received the backlash before. “I didn’t name them, Lucas. And their name is Nine, okay?”

“Nine?” Will glances at them, only to find them staring right back at him. His face flushes and Will clears his throat. “Like the number?” He never officially met El, the girl Mike frequently talked about, and he never got an explanation for who she was. All Will really knew was that she was significant to Mike, and well, she was the mage.

“Just like Eleven.” Dustin stared at Nine with an awestruck smile on his face. It was an experience to find Eleven and now to find Nine, it was like finding two toys in the same cereal box to him. Unusual and yet satisfying. But of course, it brought up more questions. “Do you think they’re looking for Nine?”

Mike paused.

“If they were after El, they’re after Nine too.”

Nine sits there in silence, listening and observing the boys around them. They don’t understand most of the words they’re speaking but it becomes clear in their tone, a potential danger is near, and they know it. Nine eyes begin to flutter, pupils dilating and contracting while their body trembles.

“Mike!” Will jumps out of his seat and their conversation stops short. The boys watch Mike kneel down, trying to get a reaction out of Nine besides whimpering and whines. “Mike, what’s going on?” As soon as blood begins to flow down onto their lip, the boys’ walkie-talkie’s static and let out a screeching ring.

“Cover your ears!” Mike shouts.

Once the static and ringing die down, Mike slowly uncovers his ears and listens to the voices that transmit through the speakers. It’s the man from his dream, the man who he could finally recognize from the school only months ago, and he was talking. He was _real_.

**“Find 009.”**


	4. So Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have to escape.

_August 1983_

**Hawkins National Laboratory, Hawkins.**

011 sits in the white room alone, staring at the glass window ahead of her. The men in white coats spoke incoherently, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hear their voices from behind that wall. She sits still with her hands and feet parallel to one another, as stiff as a board while waiting for Papa to come back. He told her to wait there, patiently, as a good girl would. 

So she did.

“Eleven,” he enters the room finally, and her back straightens instinctively. “I need you to take us somewhere.” It was odd how he chose to speak to her here instead of her room. It never ceased to send a cold shiver through her body to know that she’d be going somewhere, though, and that was all that crossed her mind at the moment. 

“How far?”

There’s an uncertainty in his voice, he doesn’t exactly give a straight answer but he doesn’t hesitate to give his estimate. “Nothing farther than we’ve already gone, Eleven.”

She stares at Papa with a worrying gaze. The darkness was one of the worse places she’s gone and it hurt to be thrown back in, but Papa cared for her. He wouldn’t let her go through anything as terrible as before. “Do you remember them?”

Papa holds a photo between his fingers, one of a person just as she is, stripped down to a minimal gown and buzz cut. He pulls another photo from the files in his other hand, one of their forearm, a number etched into their skin. She looks down at her own, and back at the other, 009. 011 nods as he places them on the table in front of her. 

“The bath.” It’s more of a statement than a question, she knows where she’s to go and what she’s to see and yet the feeling of imminent fear still grasps at her chest. 011’s shoulders close in and she slouches while taking a better look at the photos. 

“Yes,” Papa replies. “Are that okay with you?”

There’s no request or answer to his words. It wasn’t a question, it was an order, and she nods without a word. There’s the click of the door and it opens up to reveal a man in a white coat holding the suit she’d wear, the void awaits.

“Okay.”

* * *

_July 4, 1984_

**Hawkins, Indiana.**

_“Find 009.”_

Never had Mike thought that two words could bring so much panic into one being. Nine sat on the couch in the basement, resting their head on the armrest while the boys stayed far enough so their whispers wouldn’t be heard. Mike refused to speak louder than so. If Dustin so much as raised his voice, Mike shut them down, and carefully glanced back at Nine.

It was overprotection, possibly, but the blood crusting over their top lip said otherwise. He was only being cautious. If the boys didn’t turn their walkie-talkies off as fast as they did something could have gone wrong and he just knew it. Nine didn’t look all too well either. Their eyes barely stayed open and their skin was near translucent, it only reminded the boys off when they first saw the faux corpse of Will Byers near the Sattler’s quarry. Lifeless and sickly, the image of death itself, and yet Nine still sat awake. Alive.

Mike only wished they wouldn’t fall asleep. He was afraid they wouldn’t open their eyes if they did, and what scared him more was that he couldn’t help. All the party could do is sit and wait, patient for their speedy recovery from whatever mess occurred when they used their powers. Right, their powers.   
That’s what they were discussing.

“How do we know it just wasn’t a news channel they tapped into?” Lucas, the party’s skeptic, waves his walkie-talkie around in his hand. He was there when El helped find Will, he was present for every single stranger happening and yet he refused to believe it could happen again. After all, it could be the lab trying to lure them back in. “Mike, we know what the lab can do. We all know why you’re doing this.”

“I’m not doing this for El!” Mike raises his voice against his own rule. The party stares at him with wide eyes, Will glancing back at Nine who remains lulling into exhaustion. However, their eyes are on Mike too, but not with unease. He turns his head and Nine turns away before he is even able to apologize. “I’m doing this for us, and for Nine. What if the lab is still looking for them? We could be in danger, Lucas, all of us.”

“What if we don’t have to be?” Lucas places his walkie-talkie down and the boys go quiet. They know what he’s going to say but none have the guts to cuss him out on it, they’d thought of it once. “Mike, we don’t have El to protect us anymore. If the lab really does come for us, what are they going to do? Make our walkie-talkies go off like crazy?” 

Mike is speechless against him. There was no way of telling how far their abilities could go, El showed more promise in a day than Nine ever had and they wouldn’t have much time to create an entire testing course. Mike needed to convince them that it wasn’t a suicide mission, that it wasn’t going to end in the worst summer of their lives, and that no one would get hurt again. He only wished Nine would comply.

As the boys discuss the possible tests they could try or the possible places they could rid the party of Nine, Will watches the stranger from afar. They brought warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain, their very person created a serene calm that he hadn’t experienced in such a very long time. No vision of the Upside Down could destroy it and he didn’t know why, but there was a spark that kept him constantly lured toward them.

He needed to find out why.

“Your name is Nine, right?” It wasn’t the best first impression but it was enough for Nine to sit up and pay the slightest of attention. Will sits down on the space beside them and they seem to instinctively retract. He swallows the butterflies wallowing in his throat and continues, only to croak out a few words. “I’m Will.”

“Will.” They repeat his name, and he nods in response. The warmth he chased after was present again, although not in his chest like he’d expected, rather in his face and cheeks which burnt up like a sunburn.

Nine reaches out toward him and he expects to be shunned and pushed away, but it sends a thrilling shock throughout his chest to find their hand gently situated on his own. There’s a moment where they go silent and a fresh drop of blood falls down their chin before they move away and the warmth goes missing.“Will the… Wise.”

With his face going pale, Will is the one to move away. Out of confusion or fear, he can’t tell, because the burning in his chest and the coal-hot sting of his face distracts him from it completely. Before he can question Nine, Mike calls his name and he stands to find him, facing the ground as he scurries away with questions entangled into his mind.

“Will,” Mike says for the fifth time. Will wasn’t listening, apparently, and he turns to the party to find them staring right back at him. “You okay?” Mike’s hand is on Will’s shoulder, pressing lightly with a gentle squeeze of concern.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

* * *

The party concludes after thirty-six minutes of endless bickering. Nine had already fallen asleep behind them, no one quite paying attention to them besides Will who could barely keep his eyes off of them for longer than two minutes. It was concern and confusion that kept him from concentrating, but most of all, the lingering urge to question their knowledge of him. But despite his confusion, Will agrees with the boys’ newest idea.

Move the coffee table and chairs aside, clear out the area and create a makeshift sensory deprivation area. Lucas rejected the kiddie pool idea, after all, the only one who owned a kiddie pool was Dustin. Even then, he sold it to his neighbors after finding out they had frequent visits from their niece who enjoyed pool parties more than he did. Besides, he hadn’t used it since he grew too big for it.

Lucas was the one to offer his bandana as a blindfold. He didn’t exactly want to, but after the boys searched high and low for one of Karen’s old scarves he knew he was the only one able to offer. He hands it to Will who sits beside Nine on the floor after placing the walkie-talkies and radio around them on a static channel. Will was explaining what they should do to help them, find the bad men and return right after, no more than that. They only needed information and no one was to get hurt.

“If something scares you, you just get right out, okay?”

Mike doesn’t understand the newfound companionship between Will and Nine. It awoke a sort of bile inside of him that tore away at his chest. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before and the sight of Nine being possibly more comfortable around Will wasn’t helping his case at all. He questions every word Will says, challenging his own friend to a game of who’s better when there really was no contest besides the one in his mind. 

Nine nods after every reassuring sentence that comes from Will, albeit backing away slightly when he reaches to wrap the bandana around their eyes. He explains its purpose in a whisper, and Nine reluctantly allows him to tie it behind their head. Just as he moves away, they reach out and run their fingers over his eyes, cheek, and nose. 

“I’m right here,” Will puts their hand back in the lap and Dustin silently sniggers at the scene. Mike quickly wraps up the two and finds the one channel that was left in static, a perfect screen for Nine to project visions onto. The boys all step aside and watch carefully. 

Lights flicker at the speed of light and static grows louder than the sound of silence. They instinctively cover their ears for a moment, only to uncover them the moment a voice feeds through. The man who spoke before returned, although now they’d gotten a better look at his face. Deformed on the half of his face, skin dented and patchy, like he’d been torn apart and put back together. 

“The Demogorgon…” Lucas leans into the screen as the image becomes clearer. “The Demogorgon did that to him.” He could see the tooth marks lining his face, and it beckoned the question of how he escaped the monster practically unscathed. 

The man sat in a car, one that stops harsh enough that he falls forward in the slightest. Light fills the black background and the car opens, only to reveal itself as a van. A rather large one at that. He steps out of the van and passes stone-faced men who stand on either side of the door, waiting and silent. The man walks forward and toward something before he stops.

The screen glitches and the vision transmits from another person’s eyes. The man. He looks down at his hand which holds a paper with an address. Before Mike could correctly make out the words written, the screen cuts black and the walkie-talkies let out a high pitch screech. Lucas and Dustin shut them off and Nine tears off the blindfold and throws it far away, screaming as they scramble away. A patch of blood already seemed to accumulate on the front of their shirt, right where it dripped down from their chin.

Mike attempts to calm them down, but Will brings the address on the paper to his attention. He was positive of those words and it brought a shiver to Mike’s spine as a knock sounds from just up the stairs, hard and loud, echoing in the empty home. It really had said Maple Street.

“Sorry,” Nine musters enough energy to grab onto Mike’s arm, gasping out apologies while the knocking grows louder and louder with every moment that passes. The boys check through the windows and see glimpses of cars that pass by. Black vans, cars, and suited men. It was real. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”  
“We have to get Nine out of here.” Mike looks up at the party who scatter around the basement in search of some way out. Lucas gawks.

“Nine? Mike, we have to get ourselves out of here. This is dangerous!”

“They’re here for Nine, not us,” Dustin steps in and glances at the basement door and back at Mike. “If we get Nine out of here, they’ll leave too, right? Right?” He searches for some sort of approval and finds it with Will, who nods his head and finds his way toward the basement door that leads to the outside. 

Mike helps Nine stand and scurries them toward Will, who keeps them steady over his shoulder. No one makes a sound as Mike skips over the steps to the upstairs, giving one last look at Will. “I don’t care where it is, but you get Nine out of here safe. I’ll distract them. When you hear the door open, run.”

The room goes silent once he leaves. Not one voice is heard until the door creaks open from upstairs and Lucas throws the door open, ushering the three outside. They don’t go far, only to the back of the house where Dustin and Lucas stand in front of Will and back him into the woods. It would be suspicious if all of them disappeared at once, surely their footsteps would bring more attention than the two. 

“You guys are staying?” Will holds onto Nine’s hand just as tight as they do to his as if letting go would will him to fall into an endless abyss of danger. He squeezes harder when their eyes flutter closed for more than two seconds. Lucas and Dustin don’t answer him, instead opting to hand him one of their walkie-talkies and mutter the words ‘Channel 7’ under their breath and leave. 

They sprint back toward the home and leave Will to decide.

He grips the walkie-talkie in his hand before turning Nine around and facing the woods he’d run through and would run through once again. The longer he stared the more frightening they became, and so he runs. Will runs and runs, refusing to let Nine fall or look back even if he too wanted to be sure they were safe.

Nine tries to pull away for only a moment and he refuses again, tugging them forward. Soon enough they’re doing the same for him, urging him forward despite not even knowing their destination.

It was near and Will knew, the trees became familiar and home to him, he knew these parts like the back of his hand.

As soon as he catches a glimpse of his fortress of protection, Will sprints, and lodges his shoe into a hole. He goes tumbling forward, dirt flinging into his hair and onto his clothes while Nine fumbles to their knees too, although lacking the searing pain that ran through his left arm.

“Will!” Quickly, Nine crawls toward him and touches his elbow. It’s not bleeding or scraped in any way, but as soon as their fingers graze his skin it sends lightning through his bones. Will flinches away, holding onto himself while Nine’s breathing hitches with worry. “Hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad…” He holds onto a tree trunk for support, lifting himself from the ground while Nine helps him do so. “We’re almost there, okay? We’re almost there, just come on, this way.”

From a distance, it seems so very far away, but one step and it feels closer already. Will disregards the pain even if it drains every bit of adrenaline from his body, but he welcomes the soft hold of Nine’s hand returning to his own as they finish their walk to **Castle Byers.**


	5. Eye In The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will experiences a vision, 009 fears the new.

_August 23, 1983_

**Hawkins National Laboratory, Hawkins**

009.

A three-digit code written under the word ‘subject’, just above the endless details of physical health and mental stability. Weight, height, measurements and physical capabilities and incapability. On the other hand, mental stability tackled the likeness to attack and submit, ranging from ignorance to utter inhumane obedience.

A human stripped of rights and hospitality, deprived of any and all thoughts of free will, is what they became after long years in captivity. Perhaps such strict living is what brings subjects to do harm to others, themselves, or more rarely, escape.

Rare as it is, one did escape. Subject 009 had disappeared only to be caught by a monster far beyond comprehension, one who spoke just as humans do and yet presented itself as a creature far from humane.

011 places her hand on the thick glass that separated her from Papa, him just out of reach, and her far from anyone. He makes no effort to bid her farewell into the darkness that engulfed the tank, tossing her into a deprived state of mind.

There was no sound, no feeling but cold beneath her feet. 011 squeezes her eyes shut and awaits the moment that she can finally reopen them. It arrives in less than a second, and 011 can hear the voice of a man. Papa.

Not far from where she stands is the subject she’d seen in the picture, although much different in features. Their hair had grown, not long but enough that it was noticeable. Instinctively, 011 touches her own buzzed hair, running her fingers over the prickles. Before she can even create a safe distance between her and the disheveled 009, a dark shadow overcasts and shouts a terrifying scream.

One in the voice of Papa.

_“You are nothing. Nothing!”_

The voices get louder and louder, and 011 backs away in fear of what he may do to her. The shadow grows as the voice does, and the subject before her is on their knees, curled into a hunched ball of pain. They make no move to escape from the clutches of vines that begin to wrap around their body, causing 011 to run forward.

_“Eleven. What are you doing here?”_

His voice echoes throughout the void and 011 falls beside 009, trying to tear away the vines even if her hands only turn them to fog. She grunts in frustration, continuing to claw at them until Papa’s voice shouts her name. 011’s body freezes into shock and her chest begins to crush beneath his words.

“You disappoint me. You don’t listen, and those who don’t listen are punished.”

“Papa…” She clenches at the collar of her suit, it suddenly begins to contract around her body. 011 stands, attempting to flee but the voice only grows louder, mocking her. It rings through her ears and she shouts in fear, “Papa! Papa- no, Papa!”

_“You have an illness, Eleven.”_

“Papa!” 011 screams at the top of her lungs, the body of 009 disappearing into a pile of vines- vines that become tentacles. The shadow hovers over her and the air goes ice cold. Her face flushes of all color as rows of teeth begin to present themselves just above her head, about to swallow her whole.

_“A terrible illness, it corrupts you.”_

011 stares into the endless red abyss above her just as the void begins to brighten in a red tint somehow. The world around her is revealed and it is disturbingly barren. A wasteland in her eyes. Vines bore into the ground, squishy and uncomfortable, the long trees never-ending and the air filled with endless ashes.

The monster is revealed.

Tentacles thick and slimy, teeth as sharp as knives and deep golden eyes with slits for pupils. Its mouth opens wider and its serpent tongue slithers down. It lets out a monstrous screech that sends 011 into a still shock, one that sends a shiver through her skin.

_“You must be cleansed.”_

His voice contorts into a devilishly low tone, one most definitely inhuman. The monster lunges at her and swallows 011 whole, sending her into a frenzy of screams until she tears away at the helmet around her head.

Water fills her mouth and lungs once she rids herself of it, sirens blaring outside of the soundless tank. 011 pounds on the glass repeatedly and it opens slowly, just enough for her to see Papa standing away from her, unmoved by her fear.

Before she can call his name, she chokes. The water devours her and her vision blacks, leaving her to be hauled from the Bath. Just as 011 begins to fade into unconsciousness, the voice lingers in her mind. Speaking to her, tempting her.

_“It’s festering…”_

* * *

_July 4, 1984_

**Castle Byers, Hawkins**

Running.

To Will Byers, it was a game he’d played all throughout 1983, be it with Demogorgon or situations that brought unease. He despised his lack of confrontation and yet sank into the depths of it anyways—it was the only option that was constant. Recurring and never leaving his side, the one thing that stayed.

However he didn’t recommend it, not to any of his friends or family, it was a game that unless played well, would end in more chaos than it started with. Will should know, after the destruction that occurred during his disappearance to the Upside Down. But, there were times that running was the only option.

The only life-saving option, actually.

As he sits beside a possible former testing subject dressed in his best friend’s clothing, he begins to rethink his decisions. Will’s never had anyone in Castle Byers before without saying the proper password and yet he didn’t bother uttering a word once they’d stepped inside. Neither did they, opting for the silent stare at the sky through the gaps in the ceiling.

There’s a sense of longing deep within their gaze, one that stands unaltered by the overlying situation. Unmoved by the thick tension Will could feel, the tension that was most likely only a figment in his mind. After all, they were mere strangers. He wished they’d met under better circumstances, ones not including a lab test inducer and his escaped tests.

And, of course, a comfier place to hide.

It was odd how he’d barely gotten any words out of them since Nine had tried to help his arm with excessive apologizing. After Will calmed them down and stared at his growing bruise, they didn’t say a word to him. The only contact he’d received were cautious glances and, to be quite honest, only made the scolding hot warmth in his chest grow greater.

Maybe he was sick.

“He’s okay,” Will says, letting an odd croak from his throat. Voice cracking was becoming more and more often, but the embarrassment never disappeared. He swallows the nervousness tickling his throat and tries again, “Mike, I mean. I know you two are… close. I am too, and I know he’s okay. So are Dustin and Lucas. They’re all safe. And you’re safe too. With me.”

A spark flies through his heart once they’d faced him completely, not turned away as before. Their repeated whisper of his exact words was strange but it was dismissed by the look of hope replacing whatever grief they’d once held. Besides, he enjoyed the conversation, even if small. It would be more embarrassing to be talking to himself than it was to have his voice crack with every word.

“Safe?”

“Yeah.” Will smiles calmly, “Safe is when you’re protected and nothing can hurt you.”

“I am safe,” their voice is barely above a whisper as they speak. It sends shivers up his spine at how soft their words are spoken, “with you.”

Will relishes in the tender moment they share, his stomach fluttering at the response they give. A gentle smile that mimics his own. Far more subtle, he knows, but the same in his eyes. He hums at the final peace he receives, blinking his eyes only for a moment before the warmth that grew faded into the stark blue cold. Color faded from the world around him and the hairs on the back of his neck went stiff.

“Nine?”

With his voice echoing through the barren wasteland, Will pulls himself to his feet and nearly falls into the vines entangling themselves through Castle Byers. As grey as ash with a pulsating crimson beneath what he could only describe as flesh. Will gasps at the familiar surroundings, taking in the worn-down state of his once safe place with fear more than confusion. Will knew exactly how unreal his visions were and yet this one brought much more.

He searches throughout Castle Byers for some sort of siphon between the real world and this one, finding nothing but his newest comic books are torn and withered. Will takes a closer look and gets a glimpse of an all-too-familiar cover, one that was somehow left untouched by the death that struck the place.

X-Men 136. Will picks it up and skims through the strips, not bothering to read what he had read over ten times. It was one of his favorites, although he’d never admit such a thing because it wasn’t the comic that brought him joy. It was the story behind said comic. Lucas and Dustin saved up for a new collection for him on his birthday, it consisted of at least twenty comics that he didn’t own and it was one of the nicest gifts he’d received.

The boys never confirmed that Mike had chipped in too, but he knew he would have. Even in his more secluded of times, Will knew that Mike did truly care. Deep within the bottom of his heart, however, he knew he could only fool himself for so long.

 _“Will.”_ A voice lingers in the air, breaking through the deafening silence he was once left with. Will drops the comic book from his hands as the voice grows louder, turning his head toward where it originates. He shudders. “Will? It’s me, Mike. Are you there?”

Mike’s voice calls out to him continuously, still raising with every second that passes by. Will crawls out of the entrance and winces at every twig that digs into his bruised skin, biting back a whine of pain. He finally stands in the destroyed woodland, ashes and vine covering the ground as nature once had. Mike calls his name again.

“Mike, where are you?” Calling out into the void does nothing but echo his words back at him. Will tries again, this time with desperation cracking through his words. “Mike? What’s going on, where are you?” He takes a deep breath but before he can try once more, a shriek rips through the silence.

_“Will!”_

His heart stops and Will rushes forward into the endless woodland, stopping not far where the screaming is at its loudest. Mike’s words become increasingly muffled by what he can only assume is cries, but it’s unclear to him as he too is on the brink of tears. Will calls out to Mike in a broken voice, barely able to speak without letting out a frightened sob.

 _“You left me, Will,”_ Mike says. _“You left all of us…”_

 _“You left us,”_ Dustin’s voice repeats. _“Why?”_

 _“How could you leave us?”_ As he expects, Lucas’s voice appears too. The three boys begin to repeat themselves over and over, devilish broken records. Will shakes his head the longer they poke and prod at his sanity, their voices were the only things he can hear.

“I’m sorry!” He grips onto his hair and tries to shut out their words, but the more he resists the harsher they become. “I’m sorry, please. Please stop. Stop!” Will’s voice breaks into sobs, rubbing away the tears that only continue to fall from his eyes. He prays for forgiveness and freedom from whatever monster lies before him and is met with nothing but endless torture.

Will gasps for air and wails at the pain clawing at his chest. Guilt and remorse for things he’d never dreamt were so destructive. His running would come to an end. He swore it was over and yet they doubt him as he doubts himself. Relentlessly.

_“Look at you… Pathetic.”_

The words didn’t fit Mike but it didn’t soften the blow. Will faces where the voice comes from, opposite of Castle Byers, into the depths of the woodland abyss. Ash swallows the ground and litters his hair like snowflakes but it doesn’t matter. The sight before him was scarring, more so than the horrors he’d faced in the Upside Down. It brought a disgusting taste into his mouth, one of charcoal and death. The revolting taste still couldn’t compare to the sheer terror that wrought his being.

A monster with eyes as bright as headlights with pupils as a snake’s. Its teeth were as ghastly as the rest of it was, terrifying beyond imagination. Rows and rows, endless razor-sharp teeth that hollowed out into being of nightmares. With tentacles reminiscent of the vines below his feet and leech-like mouths on almost every one of them, it sent his body into shock. Mike’s voice continued to lure him toward the beast but the longer he connected the two, the more the voice distorted.

_“We have been waiting… for you.”_

Those words sent him running.

Will blinked away any tears that remained and ran faster than he ever ran before—he’d promised no more running but just this once, it was the only option besides death. Hopping over various obstacles, Will never bothered looking back. He could feel the being following him, Mike’s voice nearing him the moment his pace began to falter in the slightest.

_“Don’t leave me, Will. Please, don’t leave me!”_

Diving through the opening, Will curled into a defensive ball while situating himself into the corner farthest from the entrance. He brought his knees up to his chest and dug his face into his knees, mumbling words of safety into his skin. Will finally blocks out Mike’s pleading, but it’s replaced with something much more sinister. Something that brings back memories of old, ones he thought he’d gotten over long ago.

_“I always knew what you were, Will.”_

Will’s body lets his defense fall for only a moment, just long enough to where he can hear his voice oh-so-clearly. The voice is perfect, aside from the deep growl behind every word, and it shakes him to the core by how it speaks. How he speaks.

“Dad…”

_“I knew I should have raised you different, Will, I knew you’d end up like one of those fucking queers.”_

“Shut up,” Will whispers, his throat clogging up with phlegm after crying for so long. He was sure he could feel something of a feather on his arm, creating warmth in such a cold place, but he refused to give in to whatever illusion the monster created. Will refused to be fooled by the beasts once again.

 _“What did you just say to me?”_ Lonnie asks, his voice crumbling into distortion the louder he shouted at Will. _“You disgust me. I should have fixed you before I left.”_ Lonnie lets one last slur fall from his lips and Will’s body goes rigid. _“Yeah, that’s what you are. That’s what you’ll always be, Will. A fucking fa—“_

“Shut up!” Will screams.

A hand rests on his hand, soft enough to be a ghost’s. The vision fades into reality and he lets out a distressed sob, gripping onto Nine’s hand that rested on his own. Will squeezes onto Nine’s hand for some sort of grounding, and they reciprocate with the same sort of hold. He takes his time before facing them and from the way that they stared, he was sure he was disheveled. Nine moves the blankets from beside him to hold him much closer.

“Safe.” They say, bringing the warmth back into his chest in a matter of seconds. “With me.”

Will leans into the welcoming touch. Whatever he’d seen brought nothing but nightmares to life and though he wishes it wasn’t real, it was. More than real. After a minute of silence and pure friendliness, Will breaks through his fear and tries to explain. He doesn’t feel obligated to but the worry on Nine’s face was upsetting to him.

“I have visions,” Will states blankly. After the confusion that settled in Nine’s eyes, he worked up enough courage to recall what he’d seen, to explain what he meant without trying to sound like an absolute lunatic. “There’s this place called the Upside Down. I was stuck there and after I got out I’ve had these… visions. I can see it and this time I-I saw something.” The thought of the thing watching him like a hawk brought a sick feeling to his stomach.

“Monster...”

Will pauses. “You’ve seen it?”

He waits for an explanation himself, but Nine stares down at the ground with a distanced and recoiled feeling. Will attempts to reconcile, apologize for bringing it up but they reach for the hem of their shirt and lift it an inch from their skin. Will instinctively covers his eyes but it never goes farther from there.

Only enough to see teeth marks lining their side as if one hundred leeches attached at once. It was disturbing but he didn’t say a word, he knew exactly where they’d come from. The monster had those teeth, not its mouth but the slimy tentacles that acted as feeders. Will lets them place their shirt back down, encourages it, really, before taking in a breath.

“It got you, didn’t it?” He asks, only curiously. But the very words send Nine to the corner they once sat in, silently staring through the branches at the world outside. Will doesn’t attempt to talk for a while. He knew they weren’t mad, he could tell, but they’d experienced an oddity and it was much to take in.

He respected that.

But that didn’t stop the boy from longing to have more shared conversations or contact, even facing one another would bring him some sort of joy and yet Will couldn’t find the words. It was different when talking to Nine. He didn’t have much to go off of when thinking of what to say, not like when he speaks to his friends. The only topic Will could think of off the top of his head was the monster and that was a no-go.

It was hard to sit in silence, especially as a naturally talkative person when it comes to people he finds interest in. Unfortunately he, after five minutes, still had nothing to say. No cheap icebreakers from the corners of newspapers, no references to comics that Nine surely wouldn’t understand. The only thing being shared happened to be the not-so-subtle glances that Will gave, ones that ended in an awkward smile and wave.

Every attempt at possible one-sided conversation was cut short by his nervousness, but in this case, it was something different. Fireworks began and Nine was clearly not accustomed. No person would shrink into the corner, buried beneath a blanket at the sound and sight of fireworks. On the Fourth of July of all times.

“It’s only fireworks,” Will says and removes the blankets from their face. Nine trembles but trusts him nonetheless, taking his hand as he stands up. “Come on, I’ll show you.” But everyone has their limits. Nine refuses, pulling him back with a whine. “You’re safe, remember? It’s okay, I promise you.”

After much reluctance, he finally helps them outside where the colors red, white, and blue light up the night sky. Their arm is linked onto his tightly, not once letting go even after Nine finds the courage to look up as Will does. But the sight is beautiful nonetheless. He can feel the tension lift from them and the smile on their face brought a genuine flutter to his stomach, one that he just couldn’t shake.

“That one’s my favorite.” Will walks a little further, only to get a better look at the golden willow that went off behind the brighter colored fireworks. It was a soft glimmer in the background and they always seemed to fade away, calm, unlike the ones that went out only with a big bang. “It’s pretty.”

“Pretty?”

“Oh,” Will sputters. It was hard to explain such things to someone, he didn’t judge their limitations but he was not the greatest teacher. He wasn’t sure he qualified. “You know, when you like something a lot and you like the way it looks, it’s pretty. Like uh, the fireworks, the sky, flowers…”

Nine nods. “And you.”

“And—what?” Will chokes and Nine blinks, backing away while he attempts to compose himself. It looked impossible with how stiff his shoulders went. “No, like- no.” Nine is somewhat disappointed at his denial and go silent, but it saved him the embarrassment of having to explain.

The two stand still for a minute or two. The rhythmic rumbles of the fireworks create a calm scene. It distracts Will from the vision he’d received, even if it was one of the most realistic and frightening, even if it raised questions of whatever monster he’d encountered. But it wasn’t a comfortable scene.

Standing idle for the rest of the light show was not one of his dreams.

“Hey,” Will turns to Nine, “I’m going to go get something, okay? Stay right here.” They try to follow after him but Will turns back to stop them. “Stay.” Nine blinks but stands still while he fumbles around in Castle Byers.

Nine stares up above at the colors in the sky. Blue and red painting the sky purple, white glowing like the stars, golden complimenting it all. Being in such confinement for so long brings fear into things they’d never seen, caution at every step until Nine took the moment to watch. Observe.

After nothing but postcards and photos, being able to feel the nature and livelihood of it in person was something otherworldly. It was something to embrace with open arms even with the lingering cautiousness.

“Pretty…”

“I only have coke, I hope that’s okay,” Will stumbles through a pumpkin-shaped bucket and a blanket in his arms, with a few cans of Coca-Cola, dragged along. It was for him and Mike, the two boys promised to spend the time together and yet here he was. But of course, Will couldn’t complain.

He steps up the blanket first at the spot that would have the best view. Then, he dumps candy all throughout the blanket while placing the soda beside it. “I thought since we have to stay here for a bit, maybe we can have fun. You know, like a party with the two of us.”

“Party,” Nine repeats, but not in a questioning tone. “Okay.” With the beginning of a grin finding its way to their face, Will nods and searches through the pile of candy. Nine does too, although paying much more attention to the show in the sky.

Will hands them a half of a KitKat and they accept, not bothering to eat while they stared in complete awe. Will’s eyes lingered on them for a moment, the faint blue glow illuminating them both. He did have a flashlight, but the glow of the lights complimented their presence quite well. In his eyes, it was a show within a show.

Nine glances his way and he nervously smiles, admiring how with every passing moment their grin widened with what he could assume was happiness. Despite running for so long, now he wished he could stay still. If only time could bend at his will, he’d capture this moment and replay it for as long as he could. As long as he wished.

His daydream was cut short once Nine began to gasp, giggle at the fireworks that glitter in the skies. Will only nods when they look to him to see if he were experiencing it too, and even if he wished to watch their excitement more, Will gave in and admired the show too.

Ignorant of the radio feed in the background.

_“Will—is Mike—have to—Brenner wants—not safe—stay—Nine. Will? Can—me? Shit—to go—be **careful**.”_

_**“Be careful!”** _


	6. You And I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing another threat and another connection, Nine finds themselves stuck between two worlds. So does Will.

_Hawkin's Laboratory. Circa 1970._

A soft melody rang throughout the brightly lit room. A child’s nursery, yet barren and limited to only a crib and station. Cameras were stuck to the corners of the walls. Surveillance that never ceased even as the child rest, as it does so now. Abilities had surfaced as of late, even for such a young age, and influence had begun.

The man with pure white hair tapped the glass, scientists leaning in to hear his input as he narrows his eyes at the child’s newest development. The melody distorts into a lullaby heard hours ago, one they knew the toddler preferred, and their test of conversion had come back clean and successful.

“Their abilities are…” A scientist marks down the efficiency of the test, as well as the child’s current vitals during the test. “They’re remarkable, Doctor Brenner. Out of the younger, only three have shown such promise. Perhaps we should let it rest for now—“

Brenner shakes his head, “No, Dr. Moses. We have much to discover.” He excuses himself with silence into the nursery where he shuts off the music. The child shouts and cries out in frustration while Brenner walks closer, staring down at the young one with a sense of pride.

His project would only grow in the coming years. With a wave of his hand, another subject is brought in. A young boy with his hair barely grown the length of a blade of grass steps into the area, hands entangled behind his back while guards stood at either side of him. He outstretches his hand to the toddler who kindly reaches back with grabby fingers.

The boy is not much older, two years at most, but he steps close enough that his arms can reach through the white wooden planks imprisoning the child. On his left arm is a three-digit code etched into his skin in thin black lettering. The skin is puffy and pink. The tattoo had been inked not long ago and he flinches when the child’s fingers brush over the bruising.

“Tell me what you see, Seven. Can you do that?” Brenner asks, kneeling beside the boy only to still tower over him. The boy, Seven, steadies his palm over the child’s own. He closes his eyes and concentrates until a singular drop of blood falls onto the linoleum. Brenner inspects his figure until removing Seven carefully from his catatonic state. “What did you see?”

“Bad-“ he gasps while staring at the lingering prickles he feels on his skin, large and wide bite marks is all he can see but it was in his head, he knew this to be a fact. Brenner didn’t respond to them and that meant it was only a part of the worrying vision. “Bad men and—and—“

“And what, Seven?” He demands.

Seven stammers before hesitantly facing the babbling toddler, one who spoke much more than he and seemed to emit more of excitement into Brenner—something he envied in another. There’s a flash of the present, a reunion between him and this child, although older.

Much older.

“And gone,” Seven whispers, beginning to further himself into the thought. He closes his eyes once again to hold onto what remained of the connection. It only shoots fear into his heart. Blood, gore, screaming of pain and fear, relentless protection, until unwanted peace. An end and a beginning. A monster wreaking havoc among the innocent.

“Who…?”

Grabbing onto Brenner’s hand with growing concern, Seven looks into the man’s eyes and can finally connect the flashes of rows of teeth and claw. A never-ending sea of crimson that flows through the lines in the tiled floors. Rivers of death.

“Us.”

* * *

_July 1984._

A gentle warmth rests over their face, tickling their lashes until finally, they open their eyes. The bright warm sun peeking through the twigs and softening at the curtain that covered the gaps. It was a wonder how they’d slept through the fireworks, wonder how they hadn’t noticed the disappearance of their friend.

Now as they finally glanced around, their eyes adjusting to the light and skin prickled with goose pimples at the morning cold, they missed the presence of the boy greatly. Dreading to be alone, Nine stands up and doesn’t bother to brush their dirty elbows, heading straight to the opening. There was a note on a striped sheet, held up with the help of a clothespin.

Nine grabs the note, staring at the letters with a hard glare. They could read, they’d done it once before and could do it another, but the words he’d used were strange and hard to understand. But the point was gotten across, it was a promise to return. Even if they could only understand the words ‘Will’, ‘radio’, ‘Mike’, ‘safe’, and ‘back’ clearly, they could only connect the dots and that was enough to understand what he’d meant.

“Will… safe.” With a gentle smile of relief, Nine sets the note back down into Castle Byers. Before they can exit once again, they catch a glimpse of a photo on the stand. It was, without a doubt, Will Byers sitting with a woman, both wearing quite festive sweaters and happy smiles. The woman was beautiful, but with one touch Nine could feel the pain and sorrow she’d felt. “Mom.”

A lovely scene paints itself inside of their mind, the reunion of a mother and her child in the filthy place they too had been stuck in. He for a week, Nine for an entire year. But such a reunion could not be spoiled, not even by the harsh memories of the torturous days, as the wrenching in their chest was not of fear but love and loss. The woman, Mom, as Will spoke in their visions, was happy.

She had regained her boy and yet the worry lingered, her emotions now were heavy and of stress and not love or kindness. Mom was uneasy at the thought of losing Will, but it was hidden beneath words of encouragement for Will, encouragement after his extensive testing at the laboratory. Encouragement to keep him from leaving as he did before.

Just as the vision begins to fade, flashes of lights begin to find their way into Nine’s vision. White, then colorful, blinking throughout the darkness in a strange pattern until finally it’s faded away into a solemn and disturbing scene. Mom follows the melody that leads her to a room where the wall begins to stretch, a claw just barely beginning to show. She runs out and the final vision shoots like a bullet to the chest.

Grief entangles into her stomach. A corpse of Will Byers, her son, but the lingering feeling of disbelief remains within her. Nine forcefully pulls themselves out of the vision, grasping at the earth beside them while gasping for air. It was horrifying to see the boy’s body, even if somewhere deep within they knew it wasn’t real, the fear of Will looking so deathly was heart-wrenching.

“Will is safe,” Nine reassures themselves, reassuring the woman who Will deemed Mom, that he was safe to her too. They put the photo back into its original place while laying the note Will left right beside it, in case he wondered whether or not they had read the letter. Nine stands up and finds their way back to their original spot while glancing back one last time at Mom.

Their gaze lingers on her kind eyes until finally, Nine leaves it untouched and alone. Instead, they pick up the various artwork Will had shown them before they’d fallen asleep. Sketches of his character, the one he named Will the Wise and the one that Nine had known from just the feel of his skin. It was a memory of his that they’d seen. Around the table in Mike’s basement, that’s where he spoke of the name for the first time.

The rest of the sketches were quite small. Doodles and scribbles of thoughts and ideas for the future campaigns he brainstormed with Mike. From what Nine could tell, these campaigns were awfully important to him and consisted of a very tedious process he called ‘Campaign Planning’.

Whatever it was, it sparked a joy in him when he spoke and that was the only thing that mattered in Nine’s mind. However, the sketches of characters were quite nice to look at, and that did matter too. It was odd how someone could come up with an entire world of fantasy with no worries, no fears, and no monster constantly attempting to lure you back into the bad place you despised. Nine wondered if maybe, just maybe, Mike could teach them to play as he does.

Continuing their familiarizing of the area, Nine skims through comic books only to gaze at the pictures instead of the large words. Mindless fiddling became dull quick and they find their way to the walkie-talkie that Will had left—‘emergencies only.’

“No danger,” they say, beginning to fidget with the knobs until it comes to static, gradually uncovering a muffled and deadened voice. The voice is unfamiliar and deep, raspy even, and the voice brings the flash of a vision into their mind. An aged man with grey strands of hair littering his beard, most definitely stress-induced as his wrinkles are only from a glooming grimace.

“What do you want, Cal?”

Another voice replies in a more torn speech, not one word can be made out of the jumble of sounds that came from the walkie-talkie. Focusing harder onto the voice, Nine picks apart his words until finally, the voices come into clear. With a smile, they continue to listen attentively.

“Got a report from the Wheelers.”

The first man groans audibly and the other laughs at his frustration. “Report? Let me guess, Mr. Wheeler saw Jackie Lewis and thought he was stealing, huh? Same-old, same-old.” Cal responds with a chuckle and replies with a stern ‘no.’ “Then what—“

“Black vans in front of their house,” he says. Terrible fright fills Nine’s chest the further he progresses in his description of the call. Black vans circling the streets with no lights and tinted windows and strange men in coats who questioned the neighboring homes. A boy claimed they raided his home without permission or a warrant at hand, a mother claimed to have been hassled by the men, and all claims came from the Wheeler residence. “And get this… Boys want to talk to you about it.”

“Boys?” The man questions.

Fear begins to tickle at their chest, sending spikes of goose pimples over their skin from head to toe. A cold lurking shadow falls over their back, brushing over the rib of their back, engulfing the world in the all-too calming darkness. A bad place that Nine couldn’t seem to escape.

“Sinclair, Henderson, Wheeler. Hell, Byers too.”

Their voices begin to let off a distant echo and Nine follows it, paying no attention to the woods that begin to contort into a deathly state, rotting from the outside in, the smell of sulfur refused to leave the air. A soft glow emits from deeper into the woodland, shaping into a body that vaguely resembles the man they’d caught traces of.

“Did they say what about?” The man asks, a large vehicle coming into view as his body finally reaches a stage of completion, although still glowing a pale blue. He awaits the response, glancing around him with mild caution before landing eyes onto Nine only for a moment. Their heart speeds up despite knowing what would happen—no one could see them from here. It was impossible.

“No,” Cal responds, “but…”

“But what?” He looks around one last time before his eyes lock onto Nine, not once faltering, staring with the confusion that grew more as they stared back. They backed away, gripping the walkie-talkie tightly between their fingers while nearly tripping over their own feet.

“Something about an uh, a kid. Like some girl—what did they say…? El- Eleanor, I think. I don’t know man, these kids are getting weirder by the day.”

The man doesn’t respond as he begins to step out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him while nearing Nine who only takes twice as many steps back. It was frightening how eagerly curious he seemed, and equally as terrifying how heavy his steps were. The man on the radio questions him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to slowly follow the retreating child.

“Hey,” he calls out, the distance between the two growing farther apart. “Hey!” With wide eyes, Nine glances behind themselves before sprinting toward the way they came from, back to where it was safe. They press the walkie-talkie a few times, just as Will had told them to, but they’re met with nothing but the man chasing them far behind.

As Nine nears Castle Byers, they see the four boys standing not far from them, searching around while bickering amongst one another. They dive into the fort and leave the boys to clamber inside, relief washing over them all until noticing the blood beginning to pool at their chin. Nine hadn’t noticed how the bad place morphed the regular into one.

“Nine, what’s wrong?” Mike tears the walkie-talkie from their hands, instinctively wrapping his own over theirs with a strong grip. There was no trace of harm done to them, not one bruise or scratch, but he knew that there had been something wrong. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad- bad place.”

Will seems to be the only one noticing such a looming disaster ahead as he shivers, looking above to see a flash of the Upside Down in front of him. Only this time he’s not alone. Everyone seems to be gone but only two remain Nine and a monster above his very own head. Its tendrils wrapped around trees, searching, until the sight ends as quickly as it started.

“Do you feel that?”

An unease blankets over the group, leaning in as Mike’s words become increasingly tense and drawn out—dripping with mischief. This was the seventh time he attempted to throw them off that night if it weren’t for Will they’d be six feet beneath the town, but they seemed to be scraping by. Until-

**“Boom!”**

_1984, January. Mike’s Basement._

Children crowd around the square table on folding chairs and others they stole from the dining table. With Dustin bouncing his leg impatiently and Will biting his cheek with nervousness, even Lucas holding a straining expression, the boys awaited the next words of their Dungeon Master. Mike, on the other hand, was pumped full of adrenaline by the twitching of his Party.

It was only him who could bring such a dull Friday evening to life. No episode of He-Man or trip to the arcade down a few blocks could bring their spirits up as much as he did. Unfortunately, it didn’t do him much help. She still lingered in his mind and sapped away at his happiness.

No campaign could take that pain away.

“The temple around you begins to shake… bits and pieces of rocks fall from the ceiling and BAM!” He slaps a piece onto the table, a bull-headed man with hooves as large boulders. The banging came from him, no doubt, and his threatening build drew the boys closer to giving into Mike’s wild shenanigans. “A monstrous Minotaur appears! He swings his clever at you and cuts through your shields without mercy. Lucas! Your action?”

“Shit!” Lucas palms his forehead in thought before Mike slams his fists onto the table to emphasize the looming threat that was at hand. A merciless Minotaur with human bones lining a necklace, from previous parties—victims—who dare tread the temple. “Uh, shoot his eyes!” Rolling the dice in his hands, Lucas finds himself with a solid thirteen.

Mike roars, exaggerating movements to match his vision of the Minotaur. He shouts in agony and flops to his side, nearly dropping from his chair while the boys laugh in victory. But the battle wasn’t over. Mike sits back up, this time with his eyes tightly closed. Will chuckles.

“You’ve blinded the Minotaur! He swings his clever in anger! Dustin the Bard is hit and bleeds out slowly, plus-6 damage for each turn!” Mike finally opens his eyes to see the disappointed faces of his colleagues, one especially coming from the Party’s residential bard who glares at Lucas with a red-washed face.

“Lucas!”

“I didn’t- agh!” Lucas drops his head onto the table and knocks his forehead, groaning loudly while Will laughs nervously. There was no way to tell what would happen if he failed, though Will was sure that Mike would have him resurrect his team if they were to die this campaign. Either way, he feared what kind of toll it would take on himself, the wise old wizard if he were to commit such a spell.

“Will, your action?”

Will takes a deep breath, taking the die from Lucas’s open and sweaty palms. Only a few options roamed his mind, one being to heal and flee, the other to stay and fight for his party. He despised fighting. Every campaign ended on him and the others dying, times like those are when Mike’s empathy came in handy. But this was different.

He wanted to stay.

Not flee.

As the boy shuts his eyes tight and exhales, rolling the die between his fingers, the voices of his friends muffle. Water fills his ears until a sharp ringing breaks the silence, the die falling from his fingertips while he shrinks into his chair. Will’s shoulders hunch forward and his heart drops from his chest, tongue dry and throat spongy. He hadn’t felt such a feeling since…

The table had been knocked over, vines and tendrils curling over the legs while the rest of the furniture was left sitting up, however not untouched by the dark layer of unusual thick vines. Nothing had been uncovered, no inch left empty as the death overtook everything in sight.

Will keeps his head down as a long screech echoes through the basement, like nails against a chalkboard, it sent a weary stiffness throughout his body. He knew this sound and he knew what would come next. The crunching footsteps confirmed it, too.

“Stop, please, please, stop,” he whispers beneath his breath, keeping as still and quiet as he could while the footsteps grew closer. Whatever monster was wandering knew exactly where he was to be, it could taste the fear, the sweat beading down his cheek. It could smell the familiarity. “Please stop.”

Tendrils begin to coil around the stairway, sliding over the ground until it reached his toes, but he didn’t dare lookup. A heavy, hot breath brushes his skin and he can smell the metallic blood that followed. Will grips onto his shirt and stays still. He wouldn’t flee. As the threatening warmth begins to surround him, a harsh tug to his sleeve brings him back into reality.

“Will!”

Mike set aside the game, kneeling beside Will who had gone rigid for the last minute or two without explanation. This was the fourth time that the party knew of and it frightened them all, but he refused to tell. He always said it was a symptom of the flu.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asks, sitting closer to Will than to the game. Will takes a good look at his friends and how they crowd around him, concerned and not at all focused on the game they’d spent so long planning. He didn’t want to be such a distraction to them.

“Yeah,” Dustin adds on, “you good?” Now all eyes are on Will. No one makes a move, not even he while Mike watches him with growing worry, a worry he knew was never going to leave his face. It bothered him to no end at how he was the center of attention—and not in the way he enjoyed.

It was either hatred or concern.

Never in admiration.

“We can stop for today.” Mike stands and heads toward his side of the table where the boys began to help him pack up. Will could only sit and watch as it happened around him, as he always did. Sit and watch as the world passed him by. “Maybe we can continue tomorrow, early this time. Nine sound okay?”

“Yeah…” Will looks down at his hands, picking at his nails that were barely there. Biting was a habit he couldn’t get rid of. “At nine.”


	7. One Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding time with a stranger.

_Unknown Date_

Small voices whisper through the trees, words coating in anything but malicious intent. Warm welcomes dripped from their tongues, coercing, tempting the urges of the wandering child. Bare and helpless, a babe in the woods, an innocence that couldn’t bear to be broken.

Voices become closer, weaseling through dead shrubs, urges becoming near impossible to resist. Temptation seeped into the child’s mind and it would not cease until pursued, even as the dreadful noise grew stronger. The monster was near and the voices began to shift. The child breaks the temptation.

“You’ve disappointed me, 009.” The voice is of disgust now, deep and threatening. The child turns away from the looming shadow above their head, trudging through an unbearable marsh of sulfur and spore. Shells of cocoons brush at their elbows, vines tickling their calves, but they refuse to stop. “Don’t you walk away from me.”

Trees crack at the trunks as tentacles wrap around, engulfing the land as a low rumble shakes the ground. Nothing stops the stride of the child, they keep their head held low and continue. He had said that this was what it does, it tricks you, lures you in and eats you alive. But he does not want a useless toy—they would have to survive.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” The voice shouts and trees fall to the ground and a hot breath washes over their figure. It was so close, endless rows of teeth barely out of reach. The child stops now, unable to move a muscle as the monster’s henchmen close in. Four-legged, two-legged, and floating above. They stare down at the child and growl mercilessly.

“You can’t escape.”

The warmth of hope fades from their chest. There is never an end to the chase they endure, no content completion that would bring peace. Only chaos would ensue and it was inevitable. The pure disaster was to come and it had already begun, the bringer of the collision had arrived, as had the bringer of connection, and it would not take long for the war to begin.

“Not until you have finished what you have started…”

Frost nips at their skin, tearing the once strong walls down to replace with a cage of terror. No one would be able to stop the collision that would occur. No one would be able to end it.

“….and what you have created.”

Not even its very own creator.

* * *

_Hawkins, Indiana ‘84,_ _Henderson Residence_

Silence rang throughout the open air.

Dustin sat on the curb beside Nine, knees scraped and filthy from scrambling to the nearest, safest home. Will’s house would be infested with Hopper’s suspicion, and he would venture to Mike’s if he were to find nothing there. Lucas was sure his family would question the shave-headed child and so Dustin was left to babysit the strange person.

They refused his jacket, even with the cold summer night breathing on their neck, and instead sat a few inches to his left with their arms wrapped tightly around their torso. No words were spoken between the two. It was half-past ten and there was no incoming message from either of the boys, Nine was silent, and Dustin was finding it hard to get a word out of them.

The blood crusting over the bow of their lip was distracting to him. He held a tissue in his hand, something he always kept in his back pocket when Troy used to knock his lights out for purely existing. After Troy’s arm healed and Eleven disappeared, he was crueler than he used to be. Noogies turned into punches, insults into shoving, he wasn’t safe no matter who he turned to. Not even Mike could stand up to the bully.

That’s how he knew it wasn’t going to end.

“Here,” Dustin passes the tissue to them, tucking it between their clenched fingers. “To wipe your face. It’s probably annoying you, I know it always annoys me.” Without so much as a peep, they take the tissue from him and dab at their chin where the blood seemed to pool the most. But a light touch wasn’t going to do it. Dustin bridges the gap between them both with his arm reaching across their chest, scraping at the crusted blood at their chin with a spare tissue paper.

His movement is instinctive, without a second thought, and as he backs way it hits him just how tense their expression had been. Eyebrows twitching inward, nose flaring with every threatened breath and eyes as wide as saucers. Dustin opens his mouth to apologize, but a car passes and Nine shoots onto their feet with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dustin says, jumping up from the curb to follow them onto the grass where they fall to their bottom, stunned. Their hands are tightly clamped over their ears but their wide eyes stare between the atoms of the air. Distanced. He places his thumb on their shoulder and they blink three times before landing their gaze onto his worried face. “It’s just car, okay? It’s a car. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Though the terror never leaves their eyes, Dustin decides sitting beside them far from the curb would be the best idea. But until Nine chooses to follow him into his home, he would sit outside and play their game of safety. Protection and trust were what he would build this friendship off of. But he would need to know more.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Nine refuses to glance his way. Dustin adjusts his legs into a crisscross form, picking at the grass that peeked from beneath his shoes and jeans. He takes the silence as a welcoming, if they were to give a disturbed side-glance then he would stop.

“Who are you running from?” He carefully annunciates every word, though more so for the cautiousness than the pronunciation. It’s hard to see just how they react, but one glance at the road tells him most of it. Dangerous people are following. “A while ago—“ his voice cracks and he damns his faulty pipes “—Mike found this girl in the woods. She was cool, really cool, and she could do this stuff with her mind. Her name is Eleven. She told us about this monster and these bad guys who were after her…”

“Eleven,” they repeat with curiosity. Nine shifts their knees to face him, becoming more open as he talks. “Monster?”

“The Demogorgon,” Dustin says. “It took people. It took Will too. It couldn’t see but it could smell you, and hear you. Like it knew where you were just by feeling your fear. It came from the Upside Down.” The longer he goes into description the more their face contorts into realization. Dustin hesitates to continue, “It took Eleven. But Mike says you’re like her and we can help you if you’re running from someone. We can protect you. You just have to trust us.”

“Monster.”

“It’s dead now, you don’t have to worry about it, Nine.”

Tears prick at the corners of their eyes, lip quivering as they stare above them in a frozen form. Their arms began to shake with their body and blood streaks down their nose, covering their once clean skin with crimson. Dustin panics and sits up just as their eyes fog over with a light grey coating their irises. Blinded. Before his hands can fully hold them down, a singular touch sends a shock throughout his veins.

He can see it too.

Tendrils wrapping and snaring the houses down the road, dragging along hissing and whistling heads with rotating mouths. A choir of tones plays as it lurks closer, its shadow hovering above Hawkins. It was large but floated effortlessly with such thin limbs. Its mouth opened and let out a scream reminiscent of a car’s horn only louder. A horn. A warning.

“What... what is that thing?”


	8. Mess Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shared trauma and snacks.

_Hawkins, Indiana ‘84, Henderson Residence_

It was horrific.

As if his greatest nightmares had manifested into one, the monster held a complexion unlike any beast he’d seen. With bodies hung from a few limbs, it drags along seemingly lifeless corpses while letting out an ear-piercing tone. The bodies that it held were familiar once it slithered closer.

“That’s Barbara-“ Dustin’s eyes widen with terror as he sees a familiar face floating, legs limp and dangling as it slumped. “That’s Will. Why is he there? Why is Will- why is he—?” Dustin’s voice was more than enough to gain the monster’s attention.

Its mouth filled with drool as the eyes of the dead shot open. Their voices beckon Dustin, calling for help with a pain that could be heard with every word that fell from their cold, dead lips. Even strangers began to call for him in pain, need and want.

“Monster,” Nine turns to Dustin with a hurried heartbeat, placing their trembling hands over his ears to drown out the sound of their shouting. “Not safe. Not safe here.” As if to protect him they huddle over him, placing their cheek against the top of his head while holding him as close as humanly possible.

After a moment of silence, Nine pulls away to grab Dustin’s hands. His ears ring with how loud the beast is wailing out and their words fall upon deaf ears. Trying to understand, Dustin follows their body and do as instructed, hold his ears and close his eyes. Don’t look.

Don’t listen.

“Not safe!”

Finally, he listens and stays as still as he can. But Dustin peeks after a moment, following their ankles to see Nine stand before the demon with their arms stiff at their sides. Screaming but in frustration. He can see the individual drops of blood that fall from their chin but he doesn’t question it- he’d seen this once before.

“Eleven.” With a whisper so faint, his vision begins to blur. There does he see Eleven, arm outstretched as she shouts at the monster. “Eleven?” He sees her skin cracking, drying out into flakes of grey ash. Dustin’s instinct kicks in and he uncovers his ears.

The world spins around him and he feels thick bile fill his throat. The ringing sound only grew louder as he neared Eleven who now began to fade away. Dustin shouts her name but she continues, his chest aches with fear. She can’t disappear. Not again. Not without Mike.

“No!”

Tackling the girl, he opens his eyes to find Nine passed out with blood dripping from their nose and ears. Their veins are dark and visible, eyes twitching even with being gently closed. Where had Eleven gone? Dustin pushes himself up and off of the unconscious child, wiping the sweat from his face only to find blood on his lip too.

“What the hell…”

He faces the house just across from him where the monster once stood but it isn’t there. The sky is no longer filled with endless ashes and filth- the clouds no longer sparking with black and red. It was as if nothing had changed, as if no time had gone by at all.

* * *

_Later._

_Hawkins, Indiana ‘84. Henderson Residence._

Dustin Henderson never liked that painting.

It stared him in the eyes, it watched his every move since he was a child. Abstract and monotone besides the splash of red paint. His mother won it at a bingo night when he was younger- it had been there ever since. But here he stood, watching as Nine stares at it with him.

They looked tranced.

With a low whistling exhale, Dustin walks away from the painting and paces the floor. Everywhere he looked, the monster was staring right back at him. Will’s lifeless corpse haunted him, slumped over, and hung by his back like a human decoration. And their eyes. That was what he saw.

“That was the monster,” Dustin blurts out. The one thing on his mind was now in the open. “But it wasn’t the Demogorgon. It looked like the Demogorgon but it- it wasn’t.” His hands were trembling, he was glad he bit his nails or they’d be digging into his palms like needles by now. “What does it want?”

Nine glances away from the photo with a blank expression. He’d given them time, enough time to recover from getting rid of the monster, but he needed answers. Dustin wasn’t going to stand by anymore and wait but they didn’t respond to him.

“Why was Will there?” Dustin asks instead. Their eyes don’t budge and he’s had it with the silence. It’s been two hours- two long hours where he could barely close his eyes without seeing the monster again. He couldn’t sit straight for two hours, he waited, and he was patient. Nine knew something he didn’t and Dustin was going to find out what. “You can’t keep ignoring me, Nine. I know now, just like you and- and if you’re not going to tell the others, then I’m all you got!”

Their eye twitches. Finally, something. A reaction he wasn’t expecting. Nine’s lip quivers as they open their mouth to speak, only to croak out an apology. Their eyes dart around the room, tears bubbling at the brim of their eyes, threatening to spill. He didn’t mean to make them cry.

“Hey,” his voice is quiet now, “hey, I didn’t mean to.” Nine doesn’t move as he places his hands strongly on their shoulders, steadying both himself and them. Dustin takes precautions this time. He thinks of his words before saying, “We’re in this together now. Me and you. But you have to talk to me. Got it?”

Nine nods in response.

“Good.” Without a second thought, he tugs them toward the couch where they sit down beside one another. There’s silence. Deafening silence but still, it was more comfortable than the ignorance before. This time Dustin knew if he were to ask a question, he would get an answer. So he did. “What does the monster want?”

After a good minute of silence and fidgeting with the cuff of their sleeve, Nine answers, “Me.” Dustin stares down at his shoes, at the dirt that built upon the toes and the stains that never left. Such a blunt answer that he didn’t quite expect made his throat swell with nervousness.

He swallows. “Why does it want you?”

Then they don’t answer. Dustin respects their response and stands up, they try to follow after but he simply turns around and sets them back down onto the couch. Nine watches him enter the kitchen and wait until he returns, twitching their toes and picking at the seams of their shirt. When he does return, Dustin holds two cans with bright red lettering. ‘SNACK PACK.’

He sits back beside them and slides it over, as well as a spoon, before cracking the tin open and taking a large spoonful of the sweet gooey stuff. Chocolate pudding, it says, but Nine doesn’t make any move to eat their own. Instead, they wait until he gets another spoonful before they swoop in and steal the mouthful with a blissful hum. It was sweet.

“Hey!” Dustin sharpens his brow and leans away as they try and dip their fingers into the tin for another scoop. “You have your own.” Nine doesn’t stop, though, and continues until Dustin gives in and hands it over. He grabs theirs and they slap his hand away. “Nine, you can’t have both.”

It was ten minutes later that Dustin learned he couldn’t eat chocolate pudding in front of the kid anymore. No matter how quiet he was, or how far he spaces himself from them, Nine always seemed to steal the bite before he did. Now he sits on the kitchen floor, eating a lousy vanilla pudding.

Nine was in the bathroom now. He offered them a few minutes to freshen up before they were going to watch movies until Mike contacted, Dustin even managed to find his mother’s old nightgown. He knew they might not have wanted a gown, but it was the only thing he had besides his own clothes which he refused to let others wear. His graphic tees were made for him only.

Fourteen minutes passed and Dustin was beginning to feel a bit concerned. It didn’t take very long to change, even he got ready faster. With reluctance, Dustin stands up and drags his feet toward the bathroom door.

He knocks once and there is no response. With even further reluctance, Dustin places his hand on the knob to reveal that it wasn’t even locked- or closed fully, for that matter. It opened to reveal Nine staring at themselves in the mirror.

Except, the nightgown was pulled just above the waistband of their pale green boxers. It revealed a gnarly scar curved around their left side, ridges and deep marks lined in a circular form. Teeth, it looked like, as well as an even smaller circle mouth shape in the very middle of it all. The veins around the area were greyed and dull, nearly black at the main spot. It was disturbing and sent a vision to Dustin’s eyes- the monster.

Its mouth looked the same way.

“I’m sorry!” Dustin backs away once he comes to his senses, slamming the door shut while Nine gasps softly and locks the door after them. He lets out a shaky sigh and clears his throat, “Nine, I… sorry.”

_One Second Later._

_Henderson’s House,_ _**Bathroom.** _

Nine fumbles over the lock before taking a step back, their breath hitching in their throat while their heartbeat quickens. They reach for their side where the markings were, gripping at the fabric of the gown while their jaw tightens in frustration. Nine can hear the boy from behind the door but they don’t bother to respond. He’d left anyway.

With one foot in front of the other, Nine places their palms on either side of the sink and stare at their reflection in the mirror. Emptiness building from their chest, clawing its way up into their throat until all they could feel was a cool breeze. One blink transported them into another world where their reflection could only be met with a monster.

Whited out eyes, mouth oozing with a black substance and nose dripping blood. A second, tight blink brought them back with a gasp for air. Their fingers dug into the sink’s edges, gripping as if letting go would bring them back to that place. The bad place. Nine lowers their head and stare at the drain that led to nowhere but darkness.

A splash of red brings them back into reality. Their nose began bleeding once again. Fumbling with the handles, Nine turns on the cold water and wipes away the blood vigorously until they hear a knock. They stop and lower their dripping hands while turning to the door.

“Mike called,” Dustin says, muffled behind the wooden door. “He’s coming to pick you up tomorrow.” Nine responds with a quiet ‘okay’ and Dustin walks away once again. They’re left in silence as they face themselves in the mirror.

The blood had stopped. It was smeared against their skin, from their nose to their cheek.

Nine’s bottom lip trembles, they grip onto the sink once more as their skin goes cold. Goose flesh. Tears beckon their eyes but they grunt in frustration, wiping them away. He wasn’t there anymore. He would never be there to do what he’d done. He was gone. Disappeared.

“Papa…” They brush their reddened fingertips over their tattoo, placing their palm to cover it with their nails digging into their skin. Nine looks up, staring at themselves one last time.

“Nine? I got the movie ready.”

Without a word they exit the bathroom, walking toward the living room where Dustin held a large bowl of snacks. Chips and popcorn mixed into one, as well as chocolate candies on the side. Dustin’s Party Mix is what he called it, or what he wanted to call it before he told Nine that Mike named it differently. Dustin glances at their forearm and smiles.

“Cool sweatband.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on Tumblr @ magppie ! i update every once and awhile


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